


The Whole Bottle

by FunkyinFishnet



Category: Lucha Underground, Professional Wrestling
Genre: Bars and Pubs, Battle Couple, F/M, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 18:29:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8764225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyinFishnet/pseuds/FunkyinFishnet
Summary: Jeremiah Crane hadn't been looking for a girl, he'd been looking for a fight. So had Ivelisse. They both find one and each other.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written before the Jeremiah & Catrina scene in episode 3x13. So I guess this might be AU now.

 

 

 

Jeremiah hadn’t been looking for anyone. He’d just been looking for a fight. There was a bar and this chick with hair like blood and the kind of body that filled out leather real well. She was talking to a guy she knew apparently because it was getting heated and they were buying each other beer. Jeremiah noticed, sure, but he was more interested in getting the right music played and the right beer in his hands. It’d been a hell of a day and he wanted something to happen that’d match the steam under his skin. Come on, he needed a fight, man.

 

Then someone pawed at the redhead as they passed her spot and she swung round to punch him so hard in the face his head snapped back. A second later there was another guy in her face but she handled him with the kind of kicks and punches that gave Jeremiah the jumps that usually came when blood got spilled. When another two guys joined her party, Jeremiah threw down his drink and dove in.

 

It wasn’t like it took long. Red and Jeremiah both knew how to throw a punch and hit a kick. And they might have broken a few tables too. It was fucking awesome. They got thrown out, because no bar anywhere could handle property damage with a fucking smile. Whatever, their bar was a better place now.

 

The jumping under Jeremiah’s skin felt like it’d ramped up and blissed out. He laughed as the cold air hit and was trying to decide which bar to hit next when he got a punch to the face. It was a good one too, almost knocked a tooth out. So Red wasn’t happy.

 

“I didn’t need rescuing.”

 

She sounded disgusted and furious. She looked like fucking dynamite, her eye make-up running and her blood-hair wild as she stood toe to toe with Jeremiah. Yeah, he knew that look. She could cover it up with anger all she wanted, he saw her.

 

Anyhow, she’d gotten him all wrong.

 

“That wasn’t for you, babe.”

 

She snorted, “So you threw yourself in there like a fucking moron, for what, kicks?”

 

“And punches.” He checked his jaw. It was throbbing after her handiwork. Nice. “Take a look in the mirror, babe. This ain’t news to you.”

 

Red’s expression crumpled up like he was crazy but there was a moment when there was a glint in her eyes that said  _yes_ . Jeremiah knew it. He grinned but she was already storming off towards a sweet musclecar. The paintwork almost matched her hair.

 

“Let’s do this again real soon,” he called.

 

She glared at him as she drove away. Jeremiah laughed and laughed, pressing fingers against the pain of his jaw as he started walking toward the next nearest bar. Best thing for that pain was gonna be a cold one for sure, and another punch.

 

*

 

 

The next time he saw her she was playing pool and sinking beer like a pro, all with a kind of deadly focus that Jeremiah recognized right off the bat. His heart was plenty scarred up too.

 

When she cased the room with a brief glance, he raised his glass. Her gaze narrowed and he could tell that her make-up was back to perfect now. He sat and watched. Her eyes got back to him once or twice and every time Jeremiah matched them. Like there was anything else more interesting going on.

 

When her drink ran out, Jeremiah paid for the next. She threw the empty glass at his head.

 

*

 

Jeremiah didn’t usually find himself fighting in this bar. He liked the beer and the company. He’d been kicking back at a corner table when someone decided his laugh was too loud or something. Then he was getting dragged to his feet and he started throwing punches and heaved someone towards the bar. The guy who worked it would know how to handle this kinda situation. It was how he and Jeremiah had met in the first place.

 

Someone tossed beer and it got everywhere. Jeremiah knew how to deal with a wet floor though and skidded easily to where he needed to be, hooking out an elbow for a shot before swinging round for a punch. There was a great jump through him. He hadn’t even been seeking it tonight but it felt amazing. Fucking better than-.

 

There was a shout and Red peeled into view, chopping a guy in the throat who had a chair leg raised right behind Jeremiah’s head. Huh. She had a bandana knotted around her neck and a real nice mouth.

 

“You know, this isn’t happening as soon as I wanted,” Jeremiah told her, kicking at a squirrelly-looking guy and grabbing the fist of another.

 

Red didn’t answer; she just slanted a real unimpressed look his way as she mowed through like five guys with kicks that echoed. Jeremiah wanted to watch her but the fight wasn’t done yet. The floor was getting slipperier so Jeremiah got back to back with Red. He didn’t grab anything; he just let her use him for leverage and took right back. She didn’t sound grateful but she didn’t stomp off either and they both got a lot done. Jeremiah’s head was ringing and not for the usual reason. It felt even better with the jumping.

 

Clint at the bar was gesturing for Jeremiah to leave but that he was free to come back later . Nice. Jeremiah turned to Red, she still hadn’t left yet. Her breathing was off-kilter and she was shaking out a hand outwith a grimace but there was that glint in her eyes again, amped up so that the world could see it. Yeah, she had the jumps going too.

 

Jeremiah held out a fist confidently. Red looked at him like he was crazy and stupid but she was looking and she had to see the glint in his eyes too. She so did because she let out a hiss of breath like she hadn’t changed her mind and roughed her fist against his.

 

She headed for the door and he followed. Turned out there was room in her car for two.

 

*

 

He saw her a lot after that, at different bars, once at an autoshop. He drove past her on the freeway when he was on the job – grunt work, driving trucks and hauling pallets, the kind of shit that kept his pockets lined and his hands sore. Every time he saw Red, the jump under his skin busted higher, like it recognized it in her and wanted more. Jeremiah ran his tongue over his teeth.

 

Jeremiah bought her a drink instead of offering his hand, “Jeremiah Crane.”

 

Red looked at him for a moment like she was testing the name and checking for a lie. She was wasting her time. What was the fucking point?

 

“Ivelisse Velez.”

 

All right then. Jeremiah toasted that. It wasn’t like he was gonna call her that anyhow. But she didn’t slip out information easy so he felt a burn of something real good at the back of his throat at the fact she’d told him. She was more interested in throwing fists and kicks and having things her way. She acted like she didn’t want to hear arguments ever but Jeremiah had seen how she looked when she shouted. She preferred fists but she’d take a verbal if she had to. It was still a jump, right?

 

 

There was a shitty-looking boxing gym Jeremiah went to a lot; there were punch bags and a ring and weights. He told her about it once and soon enough there she was, out of leather and still looking like a rush of blood. He held pads for her and didn’t complain when she got him full force. They lifted weights and sparred until a beer sounded better than water.

 

 

Red bitched about Jeremiah being there whenever she turned around but she looked for him when she got into crowded bars – he looked for her, he knew that sweep - and drove him home. The jump under his skin was getting like the Olympics and her mouth was as good to taste as it was to look at.

 

*

 

He heard about her last ex-boyfriend. A couple of friends of the ex eyed her up in a bar one time and they got thrown out instead of Jeremiah and Red. She bought the drinks that night, she grabbed the whole bottle.

 

So there was this guy, who called himself Son of Havoc and wore a mask and ran with bikers. He and Red had a thing and it spilled into the work they’d shared; a fight club called a Temple which sounded like the kind of job Jeremiah had never know existed and always wanted. Getting to beat up people for money; getting the jumps even more every day. Anyway, they’d been champions but had also crashed and burned and Red had been cagey ever since; that was what Jeremiah heard anyway.

 

That night Red was closer to drunk than Jeremiah had ever seen, talking about Havoc and a guy with a stupid accent and wings. She sounded serious too, even if her eyes weren’t focusing right and her lips headed down no matter how many times Jeremiah kissed them.

 

She took a cab alone that night. So what? He could walk; he was used to it; him and a ragged ribbon of tar, better than concrete with the moon chasing behind clouds like roadrash. He thought about howling right up there, Red’s fists and kicks and how she took each fight jetting the jumps he usually felt, how much more he wanted. He thought about the Temple.

 

He bought her dinner; burger grease for days and the kind of sauce that hurt. Jeremiah sucked his fingers clean and reached for her ring finger. Red smacked him, her eyebrows drawn down but her eyes still glinting. Yeah, he saw that. Turned out the jump came in all kinds of forms, right? Jeremiah passed her the sauce bowl.

 

*

 

He’d seen her place once. There’d definitely been people watching it, people in masks. Red had claimed it was the Temple and her boss Dario being a bastard and a few other words in Spanish that'd made Jeremiah laugh. Yeah, he had bosses like that. Money was all and who cared about the workers when it was rolling in, right?

 

“We won the titles and all he cared about was getting them off us and gutting us.”

 

“Gold is power, babe.”

 

The facts were these, Dario sounded like he loved violence as much as Jeremiah and didn’t care what happened to the people on his payroll as long as they got hurt and an audience kept coming to his Temple. Jeremiah had been thinking about it since Red had first talked about her job, and somehow she didn’t want Jeremiah there.

 

Bullshit. Oh no, she was serious but there was no way Jeremiah wasn’t going to watch her slay and bring down mountains. Only last week in that place past Sacramento, there’d been a guy built like a barn and Red had wrenched his arm and used a gnarly choke to cut him off. The lime smell in the air had been strong enough to burn nostrils. Fuck yes.

 

Jeremiah needed to get in the Temple. He and Red, cutting down whoever got in their way, enjoying themselves in a way no one else did. What wasn’t to love? The jumps were like rockets now, like when he and Red got back to back and cleared everyone out, like when the blood in the room wasn't just her hair. It could be like that all the time. It would be. She'd see that; there was no way she wouldn't. She had the jumps too and she had his look, all of them.

 

_-the end_

 

 


End file.
